


If It Weren't for the Piers

by ConstantCommentTea



Series: The Interaction Series [6]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angel as Seer, Gen, Moral Dilemmas, Revenge, Sequel, Settling into new roles, Vampire Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantCommentTea/pseuds/ConstantCommentTea
Summary: Still adjusting to his role as Seer for the PTB, Angel gets a vision that puts his loyalties to the test. Torn between the life he's built for himself as a vampire and his new duties, Angel must determine how the weight of a soul tips the scales of his life.
Relationships: Angel & Original Characters
Series: The Interaction Series [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/89173
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for checking this story out. If you’re a follower of this series, read on (and please drop a note or a kudos when you’re done)! If you’re new...this is not the best story to come in on. This deals with the consequences of a decision Angel made in the previous story (Enchanted Evenings), and builds on relationships and settings established there. Even though Enchanted Evenings is long, I recommend reading that first.

**Chapter One**

“Of course, you _could_ just forget all this ever happened,” Calder said in what was probably supposed to be a consoling tone to the 20-something woman between him and William. She was breathing shallowly, the exhales coming out in small wisps of cloud in the cold December air. Her gait was stiff and shaky as they headed out of the alley where she’d just been attacked by a small gang of vampires. 

“But I mean...it’s kind of cool, isn’t it?” Calder went on.

“Cal,” William chastised quietly as the woman gave Calder an incredulous look.

“Once you get over the nearly-getting-eaten thing,” Calder said, like it was an obvious caveat. “I mean... _vampires!_ ”

“Oh _god_ ,” the woman whispered.

“Ignore him,” William advised. “He doesn’t get it.”

Calder asked, “Get what?” but William continued talking to the woman as they reached the sidewalk and turned left. “I was attacked when I was 9, actually. Yeah...” he said at her surprised look. “It took some time to get over. Actually, in some ways I’m probably _still_ getting over it. Some things you just can’t process as a kid, you know? But now I’m doing something about it.”

“You help others,” the woman said softly. “Others who are going through the same thing.”

“Er, yeah, I guess,” William nodded. “So, you know… Do that. Or something. Process and then...decide what to do.”

Usually when Angel gave them advice based on his experiences, it didn’t sound so stilted and lame. But then, he’d had a few centuries of practice talking about traumatic things in his life. If the woman thought it was either stilted or lame, though, she didn’t indicate it. Instead, she gave William a small, hesitant smile.

“Thanks,” she said. “Now this ‘processing’... I know you were only 9, but you wouldn’t know if it’s helped by large quantities of alcohol, do you?”

William let out a quick laugh, but stopped when he realized she might be serious. “Not ‘large’ quantities,” he said, hoping to prevent an alcohol poisoning. “But minor quantities, yeah. I think.” That was how Angel seemed to handle things, anyway. William glanced around the woman at Calder, who shrugged and nodded.

“Whatever, cheap-o’s,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly.

William frowned in confusion. Cheap-o? What did their spending habits have to do with any of this?

“So where’s your favorite place?” she asked. “I hope it’s nearby, I’m freezing.”

Comprehension started to dawn on William about the same time as it did on Calder. Calder, however, beat him to the response. Unfortunately.

“Hang on-- You think _we’re_ going to buy _you_ drinks? We just saved your life! Shouldn’t you be buying us the drinks?”

 _Or no one buy anyone drinks_ , William wanted to respond, but the woman rolled her eyes again and spoke before William could. “That wasn’t exactly what I was thinking your thanks would be…”

A stunned silence followed this implied proposal.

About a hundred thoughts ran through William’s head all at once, including, _Does she actually mean that? Like THAT that?_

And, _Both of us? Together?_

And, _Maybe she means money. Which sounds great. I hope she means money._

And, _She probably doesn’t mean money._

And, _She might mean something like a car. I could go for a car. Or a new Palm, my screen’s cracked._

With a twisting underlying, _She can probably read it on your face right now that you’re a virgin_.

And piled on top of all that, _She does know we’re 18, right?_

(Which, while technically of age, felt like children next to her mid-20-something. William couldn’t decide if his pride would allow him to point this out, if it came to that.)

(It didn’t.)

The woman laughed. “Sorry,” she said, activating a ring on her right hand that brought up a holographic projection of her Palm onto her palm. “I just wanted to see your expressions. I’m allowed some awkward humor on account of nearly getting killed just now. But seriously, I’m heading to the bar.” She lifted her hand toward her mouth slightly and said, “Call a cab,” then she hung back and veered over toward the curb to wait for the driverless cab to come pick her up, tapping the ring again to turn the projection off.

William and Calder turned to face her, both still thrown from the turn in conversation.

“Thanks, by the way,” she said, catching first William’s eyes, then Calder’s. “Really. Thanks.”

“Of course,” William replied. That, at least, being an automatic response he didn’t have to think about. 

“Yeah,” Calder agreed. “It’s what we do.”

“Cool job,” she replied. “I guess.”

The cab pulled up. It was a short two-seater, and she opened the nearest door. “Small quantities of alcohol,” she said, like repeating an instruction to remember later.

“Small,” William nodded. “Take care.”

She gave them an uncertain smile and then slid into the cab. Seconds later, it was driving away.

William turned and looked at Calder and things were very awkward for a few long seconds. Then, by unspoken agreement made from having been best friends since they were small children, agreed to never bring up that moment again and resume as if they hadn’t just kind of considered a threesome with a rescue-ee.

“Angel’s meeting us where?” Calder asked lightly.

“ _Genius in a Bottle_ ,” William replied just as lightly. “Had to ask Mr. Blu about something.”

“Right,” Calder agreed. He turned to face the way they’d been going, paused, turned the other way, paused again, then finally changed his mind and turned one last time. “That way,” he said, pointing with both index fingers.

They talked about _other_ things the rest of the walk there, which wasn’t terribly far: recounting the fight, praising each other’s better battle tactics, describing things that had happened while the other had been busy with his own vampires. They didn’t bring up the woman at all.

When they reached the bookshop _Genius in a Bottle_ , they found Angel at the counter talking with a tall, slender man with an inky-black goatee. They beelined for him, falling silent. Even though the shop was quite busy for that time of night, the patrons all had a reserved hush about them, like their purposes were of the highest importance and privacy. 

Angel often rolled his eyes at this attitude when he noticed it and then would go and find his books with the exact same air.

Angel nodded at them as they approached, but didn’t slow what he was saying to Mr. Blu. “--the registry. It’s not like they really cared before now.”

“Dan’s always cared,” Mr. Blu shrugged his bony shoulders.

“Yeah, but that’s _Dan_ ,” Angel replied, sounding a bit exasperated.

Mr. Blu shrugged again.

“Well,” Angel sighed. “Thanks for the book, anyway, Reg.”

“Anytime, Angel,” Mr. Blu raised his hand in farewell, and then he nodded to William and Calder. “Evening, sirs, can I help you?”

“No thanks,” William replied. “We’re just meeting Angel.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me…” He bowed his lanky form with a willowy sort of bend and wandered off to find someone else to assist.

Taking his new book off the counter and tucking it under his arm, Angel turned to William and Calder. “Well?” he asked. “How’d it go?”

“Fine,” William said at the same time as Calder said, “Good.”

There was a moment of silence with Angel looking between the two of them until he said, “Good.” Then all three of them turned and headed for the door by the same unspoken agreement as earlier.

They walked in silence for about a block before Angel said, “It’s just-- As your mentor and Seer, I feel like we should-- I don’t know, have grand rounds or something.”

“What more do you want, Angel?” Calder asked. “You got a vision, passed it on to us, we completed the mission, case closed. Lives were saved. Unlives were lost. Go team.”

When Angel glanced at William, he nodded in agreement.

Angel let out a short sigh. “Alright… It’s just normally you two can’t stop talking about it…”

“We talked about it on the way here,” Calder replied. “Didn’t we, Will?”

“Yup,” William agreed. “There’s nothing else we need to talk about.”

Angel gave them both a skeptical glance, but said, “Alright…” After another long stretch of silence, he said, “Well, I’m going to see Connor.” He slowed down as they approached a sheltered tram stop.

Calder looked over at him, watching as Angel reached for the call button. “Isn’t it kind of late?”

“I’m not going to wake him,” Angel replied, chuckling softly.

“So…” Calder stared at him, confused. “You’re just going to...watch him sleep?”

Angel shrugged. “Yeah.”

There was another long silence of a different sort while Calder puzzled this out. Finally, he said, “Well that’s creepy.”

Angel looked a bit taken aback. He glanced at William, as if for confirmation. William, however, got it, sort of. Connor was Angel’s son. Sometimes it was just nice to breathe the same air; but that was a concept that Calder wouldn’t have understood, when it came to family.

“I guess…” William said slowly, “when you’re just being together, it’s not creepy. And if Connor’s okay with it.”

Calder looked back at Angel, like he was a puzzle. “It’s not boring?”

“No,” Angel chuckled. “It’s peaceful. Until it gets boring, and then you leave. Come with me sometime, if you want.”

William knew Calder well enough to know that there were about a million things he’d rather do than sit and watch an old man sleep. He seemed to be deliberating on something - perhaps how to say it politely.

“Or not,” Angel held up his hand in surrender as the tram pulled up to the stop. “You wait until it’s your kid.”

“Assuming I have any,” Calder replied.

“Assuming you do,” Angel agreed. “Oh-- Can you guys swing by the piers for me? Just recon; don’t engage unless there are humans involved. Thanks.” He waved as he stepped onto the tram. The door closed behind him and started moving a second later.

Calder turned and looked at William. “Kind of a weird night, isn’t it?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, headed off down the street again.

~~~~~

Angel felt a little guilty as he sat in Connor’s dark room, watching his chest rise and fall rhythmically, listening to the air rattle through his lungs, his blood thrum through his veins. He hadn’t had as much time as usual to come visit Connor since becoming a Seer for William and Calder (and the Powers That Be) a few months before. At least, not while he was awake.

The visions came in waves; something which Angel had noticed in L.A., too. There would be several a week for a few weeks, and then nothing at all for a long stretch. They were in the middle of a flood, now, and Angel hadn’t seen Connor (awake) for five days, between visions (which he would help with if the mission was something the boys hadn’t handled before) and his duties as a Demon of Influence in town. There was a territory dispute in the sewers just south of Angel’s building, there were payments to collect for keeping quiet about the smuggling routes from the piers, several newcomers that Angel had wanted to meet, that sort of thing. And, of course, kitten poker.

Overall, Angel enjoyed the business of his life, and was finding that he was actually enjoying the addition of Seeing for the boys. They were getting exposed to a much wider variety of challenges than they had been when Angel had had to find demons to practice killing, and occasionally the mystery of the vision forced Angel to reconnect with old acquaintances around town who could potentially be helpful further down the road. His reputation had been tarnished a bit, signing on with the Powers That Be, but as Angel forcefully reminded everyone who brought it up, it wasn’t exactly new for him; just revisited.

But it did mean that Angel was spending less waking time with Connor, and he already regretted it. When Connor finally died (and who knew when that would be?), Angel knew he would look back and tear himself up for not spending as much time as possible with the person who mattered most to him. He wasn’t sure if Connor noticed at all. He was used to almost-daily visits from Angel, but Connor’s short term memory didn’t go beyond a minute or so. Still, when established routines are broken, shouldn’t some part of him notice?

Angel’s Palm buzzed, making him jump a little. He rose and went outside to read the message so the light from the hologram wouldn’t wake Connor. He tapped the ring on his left middle finger when he reached the hall and a message from Emily Slipp, owner of the vampire nightclub Decade, beamed across the skin of his palm. It read simply,

_Job for you._

Angel glanced back toward Connor’s dark room and gave it a moment’s hesitation. Well, he _had_ visited, and it wasn’t like Connor would miss him.

Angel tapped the ring to turn off the projection, whispered an _I love you_ into the room, and went to see what kind of job Emily had for him.

~~~~~

Angel went in the back entrance at Decade. The front had a long line waiting to get in, but even so, Angel preferred the back. It was quieter, and as a patron, the more-bar-less-club back room much better suited his taste. Also, Emily’s office was more easily accessible from the back.

Angel asked the bouncer at the back (a short, fat, rather ugly fairy) if Emily was in her office as he passed, and the bouncer grunted grumpily. It was nothing new: Phil was always grumpy. 

“She’s waiting for you,” he said.

“Oh...good,” Angel replied as he went in.

The back door led into a tastefully-decorated foyer. Not to Angel’s taste, specifically, but care had gone into the distinctly 1980’s goth vibe, and that, at least, he could appreciate. In front of him were a set of lifts leading to the upper floors and down into the dungeon. Just to the left was a door that led into the human bar (that is, the bar where humans were served as drinks) and on the other side of the lifts to the right was Emily’s office.

Angel went straight over there, passing a vampire couple stepping off the lift, marred with fresh cuts.

“--I ever had; too bad he’s booked for the next three months,” one was saying to her companion.

“I hear he takes bribes,” she replied.

“I’d lose all respect if he didn’t.”

Their voices faded as they left out the back door, and Angel paused at Emily’s office.

“You don’t have to lurk out there,” Emily said through the door. “Assuming that’s Angel.”

The door wasn’t latched, so Angel pushed it open and stepped in.

Emily sat behind a large ebony desk, bent over the screen of a computer and prodding the screen aggressively with her finger. “Why. Don’t. You. Work?” she asked the screen as she poked at it. Letting out a heavy sigh, she looked up at Angel, her bracelets clinking together as her arm lowered to the desk. “Remind me in 30 years not to update the software. No matter what the IT guy says. Next time an IT guy comes in here, I’m just going to _eat_ him and have done with it.” 

Angel smiled knowingly as he sat down in the chair across from her. Angelus agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment. “Your job for me better not be IT work,” he told her.

“Hell no. I know better than to hire a vampire for that,” Emily said, shoving the screen aside. “I have something a little more fun. You’re killing demons these days, right?” 

Well, he was _helping_ vigilante humans kill demons. Which, in this circle counted. Still, Angel replied, “When they annoy me.”

“How about when they annoy me and I’m offering a...generous reward.” Emily sat back in her chair, watching Angel’s reaction. “I don’t need you to personally do it. If you want to send your little...champions to do it I’ll pay you just as well. Or do it yourself. Whichever.” 

Angel kept his expression neutral as he asked, “How generous are we talking?”

Emily nodded and reached into a drawer to pull out a pen and paper. She wrote out a number and passed it to Angel. “Half on delivery,” she said. “Pretty standard for this kind of work.” 

She was right, and the number was generous enough that Angel had to keep himself from showing that he was impressed. “Who’s the target?”

Emily picked up the computer screen, noted that it was still frozen and dropped it back onto the desk with another sigh. She flipped her wrist over, activating her Palm. “Remember when people had pictures?” she said, scrolling through a selection of security photos. “Here.” She reached out her wrist in Angel’s direction, the image directly moving to Angel’s Palm. “There are two Trog demons there that I’d like to have removed existence. They’re named Yurrg and Yun and they recently beheaded one of my girls. You know the rules. They certainly didn’t pay for that shit.” She sat forward, her eyes meeting Angel’s. “But they will.” 

Angel quickly ran through what he knew about Trog demons: generally evil. Aggressive. Not technically soulless but close enough. A thorn in his side more than once.

“No problem,” he said. “You have a deadline on this?”

Emily grinned. Her teeth tended to look sharp even in her human face. “Within the week. While the incident is fresh on everyone’s mind. I’ll pay you a bonus for anyone else in their nest. And if you could bring back at least one head to hang on the wall, I’d appreciate it. You know, it’s about the spectacle more than anything.” 

“Of course,” Angel nodded. “Address? I charge extra for sleuthing.”

“I like that you’re still greedy,” Emily said. “I’ll message you their address.” 

Angel had seen the boys pass locations of parties and meetups between their Palms seemingly with psychic powers, but since he had no idea how they did it, he nodded agreeably.

“Thanks,” he said. “There’s something else, then.”

Emily arched her eyebrow at him, both prompting and curious.

“I know you’re still trafficking out of my piers,” Angel told her in a low voice.

“Everyone trafficks out of your piers,” Emily replied coolly. “We pay you ridiculous amounts to pretend like you don’t know.”

“Not this time,” Angel said firmly. “I look the other way on a _lot_ that goes on around here.” He gestured toward the wall, on the other side of which was the human bar he himself occasionally patronized. “You know I do. Humans that want to get paid to sell their blood: that’s their prerogative. Black market drug trade: we all benefit. Fae targeting humans to make unfair deals with: they’re never going to stop, so as long as they don’t target people in my neighborhood, I wash my hands of it.” He raised his finger and pointed it at her. “But you’re saturating the market with your imports, and that’s bad for everyone. Your Russians are everywhere. Stop it.”

Emily took a deep inhale through her nose, perhaps smelling Angel. She could probably pick up the scents of the boys. “Not only do I pay, Angel, but I have been doing you _significant_ favors as well. Are you not welcomed into my bar? Just like a vampire. And you aren’t above drinking a blonde or two: you can’t try to take the high road, even if I cared about the high road. You’ve purchased my imports before. You _do_ benefit, saturation or not.” 

_Just like a vampire_ made Angel bristle a little bit, but he tried not to let it show. He _was_ a vampire, dammit, if...unconventional. “Like I said,” he repeated coolly, “Market saturation hurts everyone in the end. I don’t care if you want to deal; I care about the quantities of your shipment you got in tonight. I have _human_ contacts who could hear the crying a quarter of a kilometer away. I’m cutting off your docking rights next time it happens.”

Emily narrowed her eyes angrily, “There’s only so much trade that goes through the Dragon’s Crown. We have our own tables here to keep fresh, and our patrons are...” she tapped a long, black nail on the desk, “thirsty.” 

Angel stared at her unrelentingly. “Not. Through. My. Piers,” he repeated.

Emily stared back. “Are the little creatures so important to you?” she said, a little smile appearing and then dropping away again. 

“My rules being followed are important to me,” Angel replied. 

“The I’m-a-soft-marshmallow-inside-and-don’t-want-any-humans-to-be-hurt rules?” Emily said, sneering. 

“The very same,” Angel said, temper rising at the off-topic jibe. “The soul has changed some of my priorities, but you’d do well not to forget that I don’t have the same rules about demons, Emily. Find another way to import your exotics, if you must.”

Emily leaned back in her chair. “If you killed me, Angel, your territory would crumble in the ensuing turf war. You think Seth Aisner isn’t angling for a bit of the pier?” She held up a hand, the bracelets shifting on her arm. “But I do like you, Angel. And I’m not the person I want you trying to kill, ill advised or not. Moving the operation will cost me, but I’ll let you buy me off. Give the check back. Kill the brothers. I’ll use the cash to relocate my supply line.” 

Angel considered this, unhappily. He hadn’t realized her operation there had worn a rut so deep. He was losing the piers faster than he thought. As such prime real estate, it was fought over on a good year, but this year had been particularly bad for Angel and his grip on his territory. Signing on with the Powers That Be had been a clear declaration to the demon underworld that he was softening. The piers had been the hardest to hold onto, and with William and Calder’s report to him on his way over to Decade that the dealings were happening openly now (they were the ones who had heard the screeching cries in the crates as they were transferred onto the truck), that meant his grip was actively slipping. As they spoke.

Taking a cut in pay in exchange for the operation moving was still a slip, but at least he would get what he wanted, for now.

Angel swallowed. “For the record,” he said, “I like you too. And I like Decade. You’d never be my target. I’d go for your henchman.” He smiled pseudo-pleasantly as he handed the check back. “I know good help is hard to find. And expensive to train.”

Emily smiled again as she took the check. “You’re welcome back any time,” she said. “I’ll have a nice, local girl ready for you.” 

Angel made himself smile at her. “Thank you. I’m glad we could work this out civilly.”

“You know what they say: You want a demon dead, hire a hero.” Emily stood up. “But I feel like you might make it...suitably messy. Let yourself go a bit.” 

Angel smiled. He felt like he could use a bit of letting go. After all, he was a vampire, too. He let the smile linger, then turned and left.

He had barely made it outside when the vision hit.


	2. Chapter 2

The visions weren’t painful.

Anymore.

That had been one of the first conditions he took to the Powers That Be when he offered to come back on board with them.

They weren’t painful, but this one hurt in a whole different way. 

He saw the Trog demons from the picture Emily had sent. Yurg and Yawn (or whatever). He saw one of them in particular: both had the algae-covered bell-shaped horns of their kind, with matted brown hair hanging over flat faces, but one had a long, gnarled scar over his left eye. Angel watched this one as his life was swirled in chaos, marred by hardship and pain, and then--

Hope. Purpose. A future charged with meaning and life.

And a simple, yet clear directive: _Save him_.

“Goddamn it,” Angel muttered when the world returned, rubbing his brow.

“You got that right,” Phil agreed behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

“They do seem to come in tides, don’t they?” William’s mother said as they made breakfast together the next morning. William had told her about the night before (only the most strictly necessary details), and mentioned how this was the third one in two weeks after a dry spell of just as long. And after four months of being active Champions for the Powers That Be, William had noticed the same pattern.

“I kind of like it,” William said as he poured them coffee from the coffee maker. “The break is a nice way to recoup after a rough few weeks.”

“Do you think you’re at an ebb now?” Judith asked, glancing at him as she turned with plates of eggs and toast to put on the table. “Was last night the last one for a bit?”

“I don’t know,” William replied, following her with their coffee mugs. “It’s always hard to tell; they haven’t been _that_ predictable. Could be we’re at an ebb. Also, Angel says to expect a slow down as we get deeper into the winter months. I guess even monsters don’t like the cold.”

They settled in at the table, arranging their plates and mugs and utensils for optimal reach, and then, picking up her mug, William’s mother said, “It’s still hard to believe that this is your life, now.”

“Yeah…” William agreed slowly. “I mean, in some ways I’m used to it, but in other ways… Calder’s all into it, though. I think he’ll be doing this forever.”

Judith tilted her head at William and asked, “Are you not going to? I was under the impression that this was a lifelong commitment.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” William said quickly, his stomach knotting a little. “But I mean like, Calder is going to be the 90-year-old man whacking demons with his cane while I’ll be safe and snug in my rocking chair with a mug of hot water.”

Judith laughed.

William continued, “I mean, there’s gotta be a retirement limit on this, right?” Assuming he made it to retirement. Which he wouldn’t mention. He didn’t need to: his mother’s suddenly more sober expression belied the same thought.

To her wonderful credit, though, she gave him a smile and said, “Yes, one would think so.” Then she speared her eggs a little too sharply against her plate.

“I’ll ask Angel next time I see him,” William went on. “Just for the curiosity.”

They ate in silence for a while, utensils clinking on their plates. Occasionally, in moments like this, William’s situation struck him especially deeply. He had never _really_ chosen to become a Champion for the forces of good this way. Calder had wanted to learn how to fight when they were 13, and of course William wasn’t going to watch his best friend learn to fight demons from the sidelines, so he’d joined in. And since Angel refused to teach them how to fight for fighting’s sake alone, lessons had come with the responsibility of patrolling the streets and protecting the people, and William wouldn’t have asked for it any other way.

But then Angel had gone and offered his services to the Powers That Be (and, weirdly, to William and Calder) as Seer, without even asking if it was what they wanted to do with their lives. It had thrown William for a loop to realize that it was...official? He was a Champion? He worked for a higher entity? There had been nothing formal to mark the occasion, no declaration of service or loyalty. It was like, just because Cordelia had been sent to rescue them two years ago because they would, apparently, someday, be valuable to the Powers That Be, his destiny had been chosen for him.

Calder didn’t seem to mind. When William had brought it up to him, Calder had replied with much the same assumptive understanding. It was their destiny. And wasn’t it awesome to have such a cool destiny? Better than becoming an accountant or something.

Which William agreed was true. And saving lives was rewarding enough that, as a whole, William didn’t really mind. He embraced each mission that came to them through Angel, and he thought he probably _would_ have chosen to do this, anyway…

But that choice - and the fact that he’d never really had it - became so much more real every time it sank in that, in all likelihood, there _was_ no retirement age for Champions. There was only early death.

Sometimes William thought - stealing glances at his mother across the table - that maybe he _wouldn’t_ have chosen the path of Champion for her sake. She’d been through so much death in her life; she couldn’t _not_ be wondering how soon she’d had to go through her son’s death, too. 

But since he was saving lives, and saving loved ones from the trauma of their deaths, both of them knew that it was worth the sacrifice, if and when it came.

William did not digest his breakfast very well that day.

~~~~~

Angel was in full-out stalking creeper mode.

Angel did not care, because Angel was a vampire and the creatures he was stalking were hostile, evil, practically soulless beings who really probably deserved whatever was coming to them as a result of Angel’s stalking.

Unless that result was a sparing of their lives. They probably didn’t deserve that, even if the PTB insisted that they did.

Angel was following the targets to their lair down in the dank sewers near the banks of Lough Atalia. He was armed with an assortment of weapons ideally suited to quick Trog assassinations and was so successful at slipping through the darkness that he passed another vampire, a Kwaini, and a freaking _Ethros_ undetected. He was at the top of his game and ready to sink his knife behind the ear of Yun before Yurrg even knew he was there. 

If only he hadn’t been given a direct order _not_ to. So why were Angel’s fingers twitching near the hilt of the knife at his hip?

Because if he didn’t do this, Angel’s careful structure of power in the demon underworld of Galway could collapse. He’d thought about it - a lot. Nearly 24 hours had passed since he’d gotten the job from Emily _and_ the immediate counter-directive from the Powers. Angel figured he had six more days before Emily started getting upset, which gave him six days to satisfy both parties and keep _both_ his jobs.

When Angel had moved to Galway several decades ago with Connor, he’d had to establish his place in the underworld society much the same way all other newcomers did: with bared teeth and brute strength. He had a little help from his reputation as Angelus (though Angelus was becoming so distant in the past, his legendary status was starting to slide into the realm of myth) and a little more help from his reputation as Angel, but that garnered more fear than respect, and respect was what held up long-term power.

And since in the underworld respect is given on evil merit, that meant that Angel’s sudden re-joining with the PTB forces of good sent ripples throughout the community, with Angel’s collapsing Evil Merit at the epicenter. His borders had tightened almost immediately, his overlord neighbors eager to test his resolve at keeping his territory. Angel had mounted the heads of the invaders on stakes in each of the key border crossings in the sewers to demonstrate his resolve on this. 

Violence within his borders had increased, too, to challenge his strength. Angel had intentionally not set William (who lived at Angel’s northern border) to patrolling their neighborhood more than usual in order to show that he could rise to each challenge on his own. Angel knew he was not one of the favored landlords in town exactly because he didn’t allow hunting above ground. That made his sewers cheap real estate, but since he had control of the piers and didn’t much care what went on below ground, Angel didn’t mind charging a premium rate for looking the other way when smuggling or other sneaky, illicit things needed to happen on the literal down-low, and that played a key role in maintaining his Evil Merit respect.

Things were finally starting to simmer down a bit as Angel demonstrated that absolutely nothing had changed in the way he ran things, even though he was a PTB Seer now. He was still granted a wider berth in crowds, was always given his favorite booth at the Dragon’s Crown, and still had an open invitation for kitten poker every week.

If Angel failed to complete Emily’s job on the grounds that the PTB overruled her, it was almost guaranteed that she would retaliate at Angel’s weakest point and tumble his structure of power for good; his weakest point being his capacity for evil, stunted by his soul. 

Angel had briefly wondered how terrible that would be: maintaining his borders and reputation was the most consistently stressful thing on his plate. It could be a nice change, not having to worry about it anymore and his only responsibilities being to pass along visions to the real Champions, who might even be able to keep his borders for him.

But the boys were heading to university at the start of the next school year, leaving a power gap of their own. And Angel hadn’t taken on the Seer mantle looking for _less_ responsibility; he knew he’d be taking on more, and it would reflect poorly on their mission for Angel to drop his protection on his neighborhood just because it got a little too hard to be evil.

Besides, Angel’s ego really didn’t want to handle the crush of dropping to the bottom of the pyramid.

So Angel was going to fight for his rightful place in Galway’s demonic society as well as his place in the forces for Good. And he thought he had a pretty decent plan for making that happen.

Angel slipped into the tunnel that Yun and Yurrg had just turned down, recognizing it as Gladys the Hellhound’s old lair. The Hellhounds had long moved elsewhere - Angel thought over on the west side of the city - but it still smelled vaguely of singed fur down there.

Yun and Yurrg were laughing about something in their own language, which Angel didn’t know well enough to catch what they were saying. They paused at the end of the tunnel, Yurrg (or was it Yun? Angel wasn’t actually sure which was named which, he had just decided that the one with the scar over his eye looked more like a “Yurrg”) paused to dig into his pocket, which jingled in a filled-with-keys-like way.

Perfect. With his hands busy, Angel would have an extra few seconds to behead Yun. Angel’s plan was simple and, he thought, fairly brilliant: Kill the one _not_ ordered to be saved by the PTB, present his head to Emily (who had only asked for one head anyway), and somehow quietly convince Yurrg to skip town and never show his face again. Everyone wins.

Angel reached up and pulled the black mask that was rolled up on his head down over his face - yes, like a freaking bank robber. Whatever, it would be much easier to convince Yurrg to get out of town if he didn’t know it was Angel who’d killed his brother. He slid the well-oiled knife silently out of its sheath, creeping swiftly down the tunnel. 

“Dammit,” Yurrg grumbled as he dug deeper into his pockets. “The kittens fell asleep on the keys.”

“Don’t bruise ‘em,” Yun warned, “they’ll get all mushy and--”

Yun gasped, but his breath stopped short as Angel’s knife passed through his windpipe, and then gurgled with blood from the severed arteries.

“Wha--?” Yurrg looked up just in time to see Angel’s blade crack through the spine between vertebrae. A second later, Yun’s head tumbled backward while his knees buckled forward, his body landing with a heavy thud.

Yurrg looked at Angel, astonished.

Angel ducked, grabbed the head by the hair, and ran. Behind him, Yurrg screamed in fury and what sounded a little like grief.

Angel dove left at the end of the tunnel and then made a quick right, startling another Kwahini. Yurrg’s boots thundered behind him. Trogs were generally stronger than vampires, but Angel did have the advantage of speed. Just so long as he didn’t--

“Dammit!” Angel growled as he made a wrong turn and found it blocked with a grate. He rattled it, but it was too well fastened to break. Angel tossed the head aside and whirled around, raising his knife as Yurrg pelted around the turn after him.

“ _You killed my BROTHER!_ ” he screamed, launching himself at Angel.

Angel swore again, realizing just in time that he wasn’t trying to kill this one, and tossed his knife aside, receiving a blow to the head as thanks for it. Angel straightened up just in time to duck a second blow and threw a punch of his own into Yurrg’s gut.

Yurrg screamed again, but it couldn’t have been because Angel had managed to hurt him - it was _Angel’s_ fist that hurt from hitting whatever armor-like clothes he had on. Angel regretted tossing away his knife.

“Look,” Angel said, ducking another wildly-aimed blow, “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m doing you a favor.”

Yurrg roared again and Angel tried kicking his stomach rather than punching it. Yurrg stumbled back several steps.

“Leave town,” Angel said. “There’s a price on your head.”

“And how much was on my brother’s head?” Yurrg yelled. “Huh? How much did you get paid for _him?_ ” He launched himself at Angel again, and Angel dodged, but it turned out that Yurrg wasn’t aiming to punch; he was aiming for Angel’s mask, which slid right off in his grip as Angel ducked.

“ _You!_ ” Yurrg roared incredulously. “ _Vampire!_ I know _you!_ ”

That actually made Angel feel a little relieved. At least he still had something of a reputation.

“You’re the impotent East-Sider,” Yurrg snarled. “The weak, delusional narcissist who thinks he still has a place here.”

Well. It was still a reputation. “The very same,” Angel replied. “And who just killed your brother before you knew what even happened.”

It wasn’t a smart thing to say, and Angel knew it. Yurrg surged forward for Angel again, and they fought, Yurrg’s strength against Angel’s slipperiness and experience. Angel caught so many punches to the chest that he started spitting up blood, and he once threw Yurrg against the wall so hard he thought for a horrible moment that he heard his skull crack. But Yurrg just shook himself and went after Angel again like it had been nothing. The grate rattled as they threw each other into it.

“No, really,” Angel choked as Yurrg’s hand clenched around Angel’s throat like he was preparing to pull his head off. “You should go. The price--”

Yurrg laughed cruelly. “A head for a head seems like equal payment to me,” he snarled, his grip tightening painfully.

Angel started to wonder if he was going to have to kill Yurrg, too. Flashes of Angel’s vision came up in his memory, so sharp Angel had to wonder if the PTB weren’t involved in prodding them to the surface; reminding him of who he answered to, now.

“O _kay_ ,” Angel choked out. “I get it. Bastards.”

“Eh?” Yurrg said, confused, and Angel took the opportunity to knee him between the legs.

Yurrg contracted away from Angel in pain (not as much as Angel would have liked, but he’d take it), and Angel kicked him in the stomach and then punched the side of his head once, twice, three times before Yurrg finally fell to the wet concrete, unconscious. The pocket of his coat wriggled oddly and Angel nearly stomped on it before he remembered Yurrg mention kittens on his keys.

Angel left the kittens. Though mildly tempted to pad his own kitten coffers, kitten poker was run on honorable understandings. Kittens were won or bought, not stolen. They who were invited to kitten poker weren’t animals, for god’s sake.

Tired and in pain, Angel retrieved Yun’s head and managed to find his knife. He slid it into its sheath and took one last look down at Yurrg. It would be so easy to kill him now, have it done with. He could even take the kittens, and anything else in the brothers’ flat that he might want (it counted as winning if it was a battle to the death). What if he cut off Yurrg’s hand and brought it to Emily along with the head? Could he count on Yurrg to skip town at this point?

Not likely.

Yurrg stirred with a rumbling growl. Knowing he couldn’t win this one now, Angel turned and ran.


	4. Chapter 4

“So...you fucked things up.” As usual, Calder’s conclusions were both slow and blunt.

“I didn’t,” Angel insisted. “Not yet.”

It hadn’t even been a day, and Angel could feel the ripples of the underworld; agitated and scared, preparing for shifts that might change everything and might solidify everything. Heads had turned as he’d passed through the Dragon’s Crown on his way to his booth, and whispers about his still-healing cuts and bruises on his face followed him. If Angel won this, he wouldn’t have to fight for anything again for a long time. If he lost, the rest could follow at any moment. Galway City could end up an energetic crater.

Angel finished the last of his whiskey in one sip and set the glass aside. “Things are just...delicate.”

“Angel,” William said, giving Angel a look across the table that looked exactly like his mother’s I-know-you-can-do-better expression. “Why didn’t you tell us as soon as you got the vision? They’re for _us_.”

Angel waved his hand vaguely to brush off the judgmental expression that he definitely didn’t need right now. “Look, a lot rides on my keeping the piers, okay? The rest of my territory I can probably hold onto even if I lose the piers, but if I don’t follow through on this contract, the piers are as good as gone. And right now,” he lowered his voice to a loud whisper, “that rides on certain people never finding out that I didn’t kill one of the demons I was hired to kill.”

Calder asked, “What kind of things rides on keeping the piers? Why can’t you just...let certain people have them?”

Angel hadn’t mentioned Emily’s name partly in case they were overheard and partly because he’d never mentioned her - or Decade - to the boys. Well, he’d told William briefly about Decade the previous spring when William had run into him outside the building, but he’d asked William not to tell Calder in case Calder thought he needed to check out the club for any reason like ‘the cool factor.’ 

Also, the souled part of Angel felt properly ashamed of his association with the place; increasingly more so the farther toward the side of Caring About People his inner pendulum swung.

Angel sighed and rubbed his face in his palms, immediately regretting it when he remembered his face was still healing. “Because certain people are trafficking through there when my rules say they’re not allowed,” Angel replied. He let his hands fall to the table. “If I lose the piers, a lot more of it is going to happen.”

Both William and Calder’s jaws dropped.

“ _Angel_ ,” William hissed, Judith’s expression showing again. “Why didn’t you tell us? Or better yet, the police?”

Calder snorted. “ _Better yet_ , Will? They’re _demons_ doing the trafficking, remember? In this case, we _are_ the police.”

“ _I am_ ,” Angel corrected. “The rules were followed because I earned the right to have rules there. Otherwise I’d have been overrun decades ago. It was only a matter of time, I guess. Still. I have to fight for it.”

“Of course you do,” William said, and Calder nodded. “What do you need us to do?”

“Find Yurrg,” Angel said. “Convince him to leave town. Save him, and then I can present the head of the other to...certain people...and tell them the job is done.”

William and Calder nodded again, and William asked, “Where is he? What do we need to know about Trogs?”

“They’re real mean,” Angel said, pulling out his Palm to bring up a map of the city. “They have souls, but they don’t really use them. They’re stronger than vampires. Bring lots of weapons and know your escape route. I’ll show you the best way to kill them, if it comes to it. You’re both more important than the mission.”

“Gee,” Calder said dully, “this sounds easy. Why not give us a dangerous job, Angel?”

“He lives in the sewers here,” Angel went on, pointing to the map and ignoring Calder. “It’s easiest to get in near the lough.”

“How are we supposed to convince him to leave town?” William asked. “How much is his head worth?”

“The piers, apparently,” Angel replied. “Just tell him it’s a steep price. If I don’t do it someone else will. Also, I guess he’s destined for bigger things in his future than vengeance.”

“Anything specific?” William asked.

Angel shook his head. “The vision was mostly concepts; emotions. But it felt...familiar.”

Calder set down his beer mug, having just taken a long sip. “Because you, too, know of the path to redemption?”

“I guess,” Angel replied. He didn’t much want to think about his path to redemption just then. “Tomorrow after dinner, then? He should be home around that time.”

William and Calder nodded, and William said, “After dinner. Let’s save an unused soul.”

~~~~~

“Cal?” William said softly as he and Calder crept through the sewers toward Yurrg’s den. “How often do you get that creeping _We’re going to die_ feeling?”

“At least once a fight,” Calder replied. “Makes me try harder.”

“Oh good,” William said. “I always get worried it’ll become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Their shoes made wet-sounding taps on the concrete and William kept having to adjust his sword to keep it from scraping against the curved wall of the sewer.

“You have that feeling already?” Calder asked.

“Well, Angel wasn’t _super_ encouraging about this species’ ability to see reason on a good day… Here, this is the turn. His den should be at the end of the tunnel.”

Calder turned down the dark tunnel that William had pointed out, sniffing something in the air. “Does it smell like wet dog to you? Anyway, hopefully his reason isn’t so far gone that his survival instincts don’t kick in. If he wants to live, he’ll leave.” Calder shrugged like it was an easy decision.

William could only hope it would be.

They reached the door at the end of the tunnel and noted that the chains were wrapped around the grating, but there was no padlock. On the other side of the grating it was dark, but a soft glow shone several yards back, like a reflection from the other side of a curve. Calder looked at William, who nodded that he was ready, and Calder nodded back. 

“Hello?” Calder called through the grating. He rattled the door a little. “Mr. Yurrg?”

“Or Mr. Yun?” William added quickly, remembering how Angel had said that he’d arbitrarily named them in his head, and didn’t actually know which brother was named which.

A deep, throaty growl came from far on the other side of the grate. “How _dare_ you utter that name.” Something in the darkness moved; the glow disappeared as something moved in front of it and then reappeared again. Then there was a click and suddenly a light shone on them from above and behind the grating. The thing moved forward and even though it was partly silhouetted, William could clearly see the bell-shaped horns and long body hair that Angel had described to them. He could also see his yellow eyes flashing.

“Uhh,” Calder said, “Sorry, which name?”

“My brother’s name,” the demon snarled unhelpfully. “He is dead. His name shall not be spoken.”

“Right,” Calder nodded.

“Our apologies,” William added.

The demon - William supposed they were still going with Yurrg - sniffed at them and then said, “What do you want, humans?”

Earlier, William and Calder (backed wholeheartedly by Angel) agreed that William would be the one to do most of the talking, so William took in a deep breath. “Actually, sir, it’s because of your brother’s unfortunate death that we’re here. We have information that your life is still in danger and we’d like to encourage you to leave town as soon as possible. For your own safety.”

Yurrg scoffed. “You were sent by Angel, weren’t you? Yes, I can smell him on you. Go back and tell him that it’s him who should leave. I’m coming for him. Tell him that.”

“Oh, I think he knows…” Calder said, and then nodded to William to take over again.

“Look,” William said, “we work for entities that have knowledge of the future. They want you alive, but other people in town - who, incidentally, is not Angel - want you dead. We were sent to warn you so that you can leave. Fulfill your destiny.”

This time, Yurrg laughed, throwing his head back, hair swaying as he did. “Destiny,” he repeated, still laughing, “is not something bestowed on the likes of me. Leave me alone, humans.”

He turned to go, and Calder cried out, “We’re not your enemies, you know. And neither is Angel - even though, yeah, he killed your brother, so… But we really are on your side, here. All of us don’t want you dead. So...you know. Don’t stay here where you’ll die.”

Yurrg snarled. “That sounds an awful lot like a threat to me, human. Shall I put you next on my list after the vampire? Killing him, by the way, will give me power more than enough to protect me from whoever placed a price on my head. I very much look forward to opening up trade at the piers - stupid vampire is sitting on a gold mine, did you know that?”

“So…” William said slowly, “you don’t care that you’re passing up something bigger?”

“Like what? _Destiny?_ ” Yurrg spat at their feet. “Keep it. Now go before I loose my crossbows on you.”

William and Calder glanced at each other as Yurrg turned and stalked back down the tunnel. Calling his bluff didn’t seem wise, but they could just let him leave, either. He was their mission now.

“Wait,” William said, “please.” 

There was a twang and a thwack, and an arrow lodged itself into the concrete at William’s feet.

“Right,” William said, a little high pitched as he and Calder started backing up. “Some other time, then, maybe…”

An arrow whizzed between them. 

They turned and hurried off as fast as they could.

~~~~~

The news that the boys hadn’t been successful wasn’t especially surprising, but it was still a blow to Angel. He had been visiting with Connor when they’d called him, and he returned to Connor’s room, apologizing for the interruption even though Connor wouldn’t have remembered that Angel had been there in the first place. 

Angel’s brow must have been more furrowed than usual because Connor leaned forward in his recliner to pat Angel’s arm as he sat down in a regular chair across from him. “Are you alright, son?” Connor asked in a gravelly, ancient voice.

A needle pricked at Angel’s heart to be called ‘son’ by his own son, but he put on a smile and nodded. “Just some trouble with - uh - work,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll sort itself out.”

Connor did not look convinced, but he leaned back in his chair again and settled in. “Can I help?”

Connor had never lost the drive to help when he could, despite the Powers taking his vampiric abilities when he was younger. The Powers had claimed that forces would have swayed Connor to the side of evil and chaos, and rather than kill him, they ‘generously’ took his powers instead. He had lived most of his life as full human, and both he and Angel had been surprised when his lifespan had clearly been left in tact. Perhaps it was the Powers’ way of offering something in consolation, or perhaps it simply hadn’t been worth taking away. Angel was selfishly grateful for it, although he couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if a life stuck in a mostly immobile body and mind was far worse than dying and moving on.

“I don’t think you can help,” Angel said gently, smiling at him. “It’s a complicated, delicate matter. But thank you.”

“I’m those things,” Connor replied, chuckling as slowly as he spoke. “Complicated and delicate.”

Angel chuckled, too. “You’re complicated,” he agreed. “I don’t know about delicate.”

“I am,” Connor replied assuredly. “The nurses here think if I bump my arm I’ll die from the bruise.”

Angel chuckled again. “Do you tell them you’ve had much worse than bruises before?”

“Oh yeah,” Connor nodded. “But I don’t think they believe me when I say I survived the Los Angeles apocalypse. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was a dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream,” Angel replied. “But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Connor grunted in agreement. A moment later he asked, “What doesn’t matter?”

“The Los Angeles apocalypse,” Angel replied.

“They had an apocalypse there? Oh right, I remember.” He frowned. “How’d we get on that topic?”

Angel smiled and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Silence fell for a bit and Connor watched Angel with a sharpness Angel didn’t often see anymore. Eventually, Connor asked, “What are you thinking about?”

The corner of Angel’s mouth twitched. “Destiny,” he admitted. “It’s a bit of a theme these days.”

“Destiny,” Connor mused. “I have very mixed feelings about that word. Not sure why, though…”

“It’s been a very mixed part of our lives,” Angel replied. After a moment, he added, “People keep trying to mess with destinies that aren’t theirs.”

“That’s rude,” Connor said.

Angel nodded in agreement. “It is, isn’t it? Very rude. But I think it’s more complicated than that. I think...I think if someone is destined for something great, they probably have a right to know. It’s probably okay to give them a good, hard shove on their path. But what if that shove knocks over something else that ends up hurting a lot of people? Is it worth the shove? Or what if…” Angel fell silent for a brief moment, thinking. “What if the shove is hard enough to bypass the consequences? Like pulling out a tablecloth from under dishes: you do it right, the dishes just rattle a little bit. If Yurrg could be reached on that deep a level…”

Angel looked up and found that Connor had fallen asleep in his recliner. Smiling a little, Angel decided it was probably time to go anyway. Connor had a short reserve of energy for socializing. Angel stood up, put his chair back against the wall, and gently kissed Connor’s forehead. He stirred a little and Angel adjusted his blanket so it covered his shoulders.

Angel whispered, “I love you,” and Connor mumbled incoherently; probably just talking in his sleep but Angel took it as an I Love You in return. Angel watched him for another minute before he left, wondering how he was going to reach Yurrg without rattling his carefully placed setting of power.

~~~~~

End-of-term exams were upon William and Calder. Between extra time in the school library and patrolling, William didn’t often get home until close to midnight, when he gratefully let his mother heat up some leftovers before collapsing into bed.

Calder, somehow, still managed to find time to date in all this, too. Or at least, find someone to ask out to the new thriller holo being released right after exams. 

“You should find someone to ask, too,” Calder said as they left the library one evening, zipping up their coats as they prepared to go out into the bitter air. “We could make it a double-date!”

“Eh…” William said tiredly. “I think our lives already have enough thrill. What about a nice comedy?”

“Will, it’s a _Felix Stone_ holo!” Calder said, well aware of William’s indifference to Felix Stone holos. They hit a little too close to home (although William couldn’t deny that they did it well). William gave Calder a look. Calder sighed in acknowledgement, pushing open the school’s front door, and William followed him outside.

When they made it to the sidewalk, Calder asked, “Have you heard back from any of the schools yet?”

“Just Dublin, like I told you,” William replied. “You?”

Calder shook his head. It was still early, but there was a tension of anticipation among their entire class ever since the applications had gone in. William and Calder had applied to mostly the same schools, with only two differences (Calder had not applied to Cambridge and William had not applied to NYU), and exams had kept them from asking each other what would happen when the letters started coming back. 

William glanced over at Calder. “We should talk about it sometime,” he said.

“Talk about what?” Calder replied, a little too innocently.

“Cal,” William sighed. “The future.” Getting Calder to talk about his future was like getting Angel to talk about his deepest feelings, but since Calder’s future impacted William’s future, as Champions sharing a Seer, it was going to have to happen sometime. “We don’t have to now. Maybe after exams. We’re going to have to talk about if we want to go to the same school - if we’re both accepted - and if it’s better if we go to different schools. And if we even get a choice, with Angel living here.”

“Angel can call us with visions,” Calder said. “We’re not living in ancient times, you know.”

“Sure,” William replied quickly. “And I know you want to get out of Galway, but I mean...well, we might not have a choice. If the PTB want us here.”

“I don’t mind Galway,” Calder said defensively, “it’s my parents I want to get away from.”

“I know,” William replied. “But would you be okay going to uni here, if that’s what the Powers wanted?”

Calder shrugged, leaving his shoulders hunched. “Sure,” he replied shortly. “They’re the boss, now. I can live on campus, I guess. Look, Will: we won’t even know all our options until after the new year. Let’s just drop it for now.”

William rolled his eyes slightly, but Calder had a point. “Right, okay,” he agreed. After a long moment of silence, he added, “I, for one, would like to go to the same place as you. If it’s an option.”

In his peripheral vision, William saw Calder’s mouth turn up in a small smile. “Me too,” he agreed simply. They came to the place where their paths crossed, each living in opposite directions from the school, and paused. “So,” Calder said a bit more loudly. “Yurrg. Thought any more about him?”

“Trying,” William replied wearily.

“Me too,” Calder said again. “I keep dreaming up ways to scare him out of town, but most of them would only work in a Felix Stone holo…”

That sounded about right for Calder. William, on the other hand, had been wondering how to inspire him to leave and do greater things with his life. He suspected his plots were just as unrealistic as Calder’s.

“We could try talking to him again,” William suggested.

Snorting, Calder replied, “And get shot with a slew of arrows? No thanks.”

“We could try finding him somewhere else, where he doesn’t have crossbows set up,” William replied. “Maybe he goes to the Dragon’s Crown.”

Calder looked unenthusiastic about this idea, but he said, “Maybe… It’ll have to wait until after the advanced physics exam, though. I can’t afford less than an 80% on it.”

William nodded, understanding. “We’ll celebrate your more-than-80% with a drink and hope he shows up.”

Calder nodded, looking a little pale with stress. “Sounds good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” William said, waving a little as Calder headed off to the left and William headed straight across the street toward the tram stop.

Calder had been William’s best friend since they were little, and as his best friend, William loved him as deeply as the brother he’d always wanted. But Calder was frustratingly short-sighted. He never wanted to deal with things that weren’t right in front of him, and he hated making decisions that had far-reaching effects. William wanted to know what their plans were regarding their duties as Champions _and_ as emerging, educated adults. He wanted the security in knowing that their current pains and risks would be worth the result. That there was a reward greater than the struggle they endured.

It seemed fitting that Calder would think that scaring Yurrg out of town was the optimal solution. A short term threat required a short term solution. Calder thought that Yurrg would respond to his immediate problems; William thought he might respond to long term solutions.

It suddenly occurred to William that he and Calder couldn’t solve this mission together. Their differing approaches would clash, and neither one of them would agree to trying the other’s approach first.

William paused at the tram stop, but didn’t press the call button. He felt pretty good about the advanced physics exam. He hadn’t studied enough for the history exam on the Second French Revolution, but that wasn’t until early next week and his mother would be able to help him prep for it over the weekend.

It could be that this was the sort of balance he and Calder were meant to have in working together. Calder’s shortsighted, action-oriented solutions against William’s long-term, calculated ones. This could be the sort of Champion-ing that William excelled at.

Sucking in a deep breath, William left the tram stop and headed for the sewers by Lough Atalia.


	5. Chapter 5

It was cold down by the water; the moist air seeming to cut through William’s clothes while he waited by the sewer entrance, partly hidden in the large rocks that made up the bank. It was a fairly active thoroughfare, with a demon of some sort or another passing through every few minutes.

William agreed with Calder’s sentiment about the arrows, and figured it would be better to approach Yurrg on more neutral ground, which was why he was camped out at the entrance to his underworld neighborhood. It quickly became both boring and tedious, not to mention cold. William had considered getting out his history notes to start studying, but he didn’t want to turn on the light of his Palm and he couldn’t read the paper mode setting in the dark, so he just wrapped his arms around himself and waited, hoping.

He waited for nearly an hour, getting stiffer with cold by the minute, when finally, Yurrg emerged. William’s heart jolted and he waited until Yurrg had climbed the rocks to the road above them before following. The climb loosened up William’s muscles and Yurrg’s quick pace toward the bridge got William’s blood moving.

William did not want to have this conversation on the bridge with extremely limited escape routes, and he didn’t want to wait for Yurrg to disappear on the other side before following himself, so William broke into a jog to catch up, not trying to quiet his footsteps. He’d learned from Angel that demons tended to be a paranoid, attack-first-ask-questions-later sort of crowd, and he didn’t want to put Yurrg on the defensive. Or offensive, for that matter.

“Excuse me!” William called when he noticed that Yurrg was turning at the sound of his footsteps so that there would be no question that William was not trying to sneak up on him. “Excuse me, sir! Can I have a minute?”

William was very glad his pounding heart could be due to his run and not just nerves. Assuming Yurrg could hear his heart.

Yurrg snarled threateningly and William slowed down, keeping what he hoped was a respectful distance. Yurrg’s eyes narrowed at William and then widened with recognition. “You,” he growled. “Human.”

“Uh, yes,” William replied. “William. My name’s William. Do you mind if I walk with you?”

Yurrg growled again.

“Okay, then,” William nodded, “we can just stand here, that’s fine…”

“Did you tell your vampire friend to watch his back?” Yurrg asked.

“Yes,” William said. “Yes, thank you, we told him. He wasn’t surprised.”

“Good,” Yurrg spat. “Then I have nothing more to say to you.”

He turned to go, but William said, “I have something to say to you, though.”

Yurrg froze and then slowly turned back. He chuckled, his long matted hair swaying slightly with the motion. “What, then? Hurry, now, I’m busy.”

William hadn’t actually planned what he was going to say. Experience had shown him that every time he planned what to say, it came out sounding incredibly scripted. Of course, this had the downfall of not knowing what he was going to tell this murderous demon to inspire him to a life of redemption…

“You and Angel aren’t so different, you know,” William said. “Darkness, pain, suffering. But he found a better way. He was _given_ another way. And so are you.”

“I desire nothing the vampire has,” Yurrg replied. “Except the piers. Which I shall have upon his death.”

“You don’t want peace?” William asked. “You don’t want purpose? You’re meant to have those, you know. You’re meant for something better than vengeance.”

“My peace was in my brother being alive and my purpose now is to destroy the one who destroyed him,” Yurrg replied, his huge hands balling into fists. 

William stood his ground but took mental stock of which weapons he had with him tonight and where, just in case. “You’re probably justified in that,” William admitted, even though Angel had explained the reason for the price on the heads of these brothers and, yeah, they weren’t exactly saints. “But I don’t think it’ll help, in the long run. You’ll still be angry, even if Angel’s dead. You’ll be too angry to see that better opportunities are being offered to you. Opportunities you never thought you could have.”

“Yes, you mentioned ‘redemption,’” Yurrg snarled. “As I said, Human, it’s not for me. It never could be. Now I suggest you leave me alone and stop trying to talk your way out of your friend’s murder. It will be much more pleasant for all of us.”

“Actually,” William replied, “it’ll be much more pleasant for Angel and me if he’s still alive. He’s my mentor, you know. If you kill him, you’ll hurt me and _my_ purpose. Actually,” William said, just realizing this, “since Angel’s my Seer, you’ll be taking my purpose away completely. So you see, your vengeance has farther-reaching consequences than you thought: To people like me and Calder, who never hurt you, and to the people we’re meant to help.”

For a hopeful second, Yurrg seemed to pause with consideration. But then his expression hardened again and he took an angry step toward William. “ _Get_ ,” he spat. “Leave me alone!”

William flinched, preparing to defend himself, but then Yurrg turned and stomped off toward the bridge. William wondered if he should go after him, but then thought that maybe he shouldn’t push his luck when he was definitely outmatched. Shivering with adrenaline, William watched Yurrg lumber onto the bridge. Then, feeling like he’d wasted his time (and a precious hour of sleep), turned and went home.

~~~~~

During the next two days, there were at least three attempts on Angel’s life, and he was getting sick of it.

He had given the head of the one brother to Emily, who had been pleased by it, but who had also heard of Yurrg’s loud vengeance plot against Angel, and so she knew that Angel’s job was only half done. And though she hadn’t said it, Angel wondered if she would even accept his word that he’d finally managed it, if he and the boys managed to convince Yurrg to leave town. She might require both heads, now that the struggle was public.

Angel would have to cross that bridge if it appeared before him. For now, he was preoccupied with surviving relentless assassination attempts. It got to the point where, when a knock came at his door one evening, he aimed his crossbow at it and called, “Who is it?” from across the room.

“Judith Cole,” the voice replied, sounding in fact very much like Judith’s.

Still, Judith didn’t call all the often. Mostly just to return a book she’d borrowed (he didn’t think she had one at the moment) or to talk about William (and what would _that_ be? Was he focusing too much on Champion-ing and not enough on studying?).

“What do you want?” Angel asked, still training the crossbow on the door.

A silence of hesitation, followed by her voice, just as hesitant. “To talk to you. Is everything alright?”

“Things have been better,” Angel called back, inching toward the door. “What did you want to talk about?”

“William,” came the reply. “I could come back later…”

Angel knew he was being paranoid, but it was better that than dead, so he asked, “A few years ago I told you you had a non-Irish ancestor in your bloodline; a specific nationality. What was it?”

There was another hesitation before she replied, “Thai, I believe.”

That was good enough for Angel. He lowered the crossbow, went up the rest of the way to the door, and opened it. He took in a breath through his nose immediately, smelling the situation on the other side.

Judith Cole stood in the hallway, alone and innocent.

“Sorry,” Angel said, backing away to let her in. “I’ve had three attempts on my life in the past 48 hours. I’m considering never sleeping again.” He gave her a half-joking smile as she came in and he quickly closed and locked the door behind her.

“Goodness,” Judith replied, looking concerned. “William told me what’s been going on, but I didn’t know the severity of it. Why don’t you leave town until the boys convince Yurrg to leave?”

Angel shook his head. “I’m kind of stuck. It’s a whole power thing. And besides, if I’m not around, how am I supposed to claim I killed the guy?” He sighed. “Is something wrong with Will?”

“No,” Judith replied quickly. “Well… Of course I’m always concerned… No, I wanted to make sure--” Judith half-chuckled. “Forgive me. I just wanted to know: What orders did you give him?”

“Orders? Not really orders…” Angel replied, shoving the hand that wasn’t still holding the crossbow in his pocket. “More of a directive nudge to get Yurrg to leave town, somehow. I told them to start with rationality, but I know that didn’t work…”

“Yet you told him to keep trying?” Judith asked.

“To keep-- No…” Angel said slowly. “Has he?”

“Once,” Judith replied. “And he’s preparing to try again. He’s been doing all sorts of research on effective inspirational communication methods, which - _obviously_ it thrills _me_ , but I would also like for him to pass his history exam in a few days.” She held up a hand to stem Angel’s response. “Also obviously, your life is more important than his exams. I just wanted to know if he was acting of his own accord or yours.”

Angel blinked and shook his head slightly. He had had no idea that William had made another attempt. He hadn’t told Angel, and Angel wasn’t sure he had told Calder, either (whose only contact with Angel was to say that he was pretty sure he’d passed Advanced Physics with enough of a margin, and his daydreams about plotting Yurrg’s exile only slightly hindered him). “His, I guess,” Angel replied. “I mean, I’ve been on them since I’m being stalked by a murderous Trog demon, but I get that they’re busy so I haven’t been on them _too_ hard.”

Judith nodded slowly. After a long moment, she said, softly, “As much as I love my son and have faith in his abilities...I’m not sure he’s equipped for this.” She looked up and caught Angel’s eye. “I taught him to be optimistic and compassionate, but he’s only 18: he’s not old enough to have grown out of the naievty that that’s enough to help overcome the kind of pain Yurrg is in.”

Angel snorted lightly. “Yurrg’s a Trog demon, they barely use the souls they have. His brother’s murder is an excuse to start a war against me. He just wants the piers.”

Judith raised an eyebrow at him and replied, “And why wouldn’t they use the souls they have, unless they’ve been hurt so badly their species decided it was better to suppress them? Souls are painful things to use, as you know, but they’re also painful to _not_ use, if you have them.”

Of course Angel knew, and he practically felt his own soul jolt with the truth of it. He’d spent most of the last two hundred years ignoring his soul, and he’d been low-key miserable the whole time. 

Angel didn’t know anything about Trog history. He had just assumed they evolved with their souls buried deep. But what if Judith was right? What if it had been a conscious choice by their ancestors; one which locked their progenies up in cages, their full potential squelched? What if Yurrg was meant to unlock those cages?

Angel sighed. “Damn,” he muttered. “I’ll tell Will to put the case on hold. I guess I have some research to do.”


	6. Chapter 6

As extensive as Angel’s personal library had become, it contained very little useful information on Trog history; although this seemed to be because there _was_ very little information on Trog history. The earliest accounts put them in the Baltic Sea region only about 2,500 years ago, with some accounts saying they came from deep within the earth and others saying they came from the stars.

Either way, all sources described how Trog demons kept violently private, and then listed various ways to kill them. It looked like Angel was going to have to find more primary sources to consult.

He suited up for venturing out, both arming and armoring himself, and took his car to _Genius in a Bottle_. Normally he would have walked or taken public transit, but he felt like _A Mhuirnín_ offered him an extra layer of protection, if not stealth (and it wasn’t like his place wasn’t being watched, anyway).

Reginald Blu greeted Angel as he entered, floating over with a grin and a, “How can I help you today?”

“I’m looking into Trog history,” Angel told him, and noted how the corners of Blu’s eyes twitched a little. Word of Angel’s tiff with them had reached him, it seemed. “Ever hear of any primary sources on them?” Angel asked as if he hadn’t noticed. “Do they have their own written history?”

“If they do, it’s closely guarded,” Blu said, looking disappointed to admit it. “I haven’t heard of such thing, although they’re not an unintelligent lot. I have one or two scholastic regulars who are of the Trog clan. I wouldn’t be surprised if they do have a written history that they don’t share.”

Angel nodded, shoulders slumping a little. “You couldn’t give me the names of those regulars, could you?”

Blu looked deeply uncertain, and Angel got it: in their world there was an expectation of privacy with these sorts of establishments. Shopkeepers wouldn’t be able to stay in business if their customers could be so easily exposed to enemies; plans for surprise curses and poisons revealed before they could be implemented. Most of the shopkeepers adopted a fairly strict policy of “not remembering” the sorts of things their customers got up to. But Angel didn’t care what the Trog scholars were getting up to; he just wanted to talk to them.

“I don’t need to know what they bought,” Angel added to Blu. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about what’s going on, but I just want names.”

The corner of Blu’s mouth twitched. “I’ve heard you have it in for ‘em,” Blu replied softly. “I’ve heard you said you’d kill ‘em all.”

Angel tried to maintain a neutral expression as he realized he couldn’t exactly correct Blu. Emily needed to believe that Angel had killed Yurrg when this was all over. He couldn’t go around telling people that he had no such intentions.

“It’s just a job,” Angel said softly after a moment. “I’ve got nothing against them personally. It’s only Yurrg I’m after; just to fulfill a contract.”

Blu let out a long breath through his pointed nose. “Normally I don’t mind sharing regulars’ names,” he said. “Plenty of folk come in here; my customers aren’t secret. But in a case like this, Angel…” Blu shook his head. “I’m in a difficult position, here.”

“I understand,” Angel replied. “I swear, I just want to talk to these scholars.”

“But for what reason, if you’re on a contract kill?” Blu asked, confused.

Angel shook his head. “I can’t say, due to the sensitivity of the situation.”

Blu let out another long breath through his nose and shifted his weight. After a moment of deliberation, he nodded once. “Gratay comes in here most often,” he said softly. “But she’s difficult to… Well, she’ll barely say a word to me. Her apprentice, El’so, comes in less often but I’ve actually managed to hold brief conversations with her. I would start with her.”

Angel nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Blu nodded. “I hope you don’t make me regret it.”

~~~~~

It’s not easy to find someone with just a name and a species, but Angel had a few resources to help him. He had Marty at the Dragon’s Crown (who told him that he did know El’so, but not where to find her when she wasn’t in, and currently, she wasn’t in). (Marty had also leaned in and quietly admitted that hoped Angel would prevail, and not just because Angel was one of their best customers.) Angel also had a few loyal-ish demons that lived in his section of town whom Angel could count on for reliable local information. At least, they had developed mutually beneficial working relationships that Angel trusted would last at least as long as he remained in charge.

One of these contacts was more helpful. He said that El’so also lived in the Atalia sewerways, just on the Renmore border. A name, a species, and an address led Angel straight to her.

He approached from the Renmore side so he wouldn’t have to pass close to Yurrg’s den, but he still took extreme caution navigating the narrow pathways. He was seeking out someone who perceived him as an enemy, after all. For all Angel knew, the entire Trog clan was against him, and not just Yurrg. Actually, it would make a lot of sense if they were.

He crossed the underground border into the Atalia sewer neighborhood, unable to tell if the eerie quiet was because something was about to happen or if it was just his paranoid mind increasing the Eerie Factor to extreme levels. Following his informant’s directions, Angel made his way slowly and silently along the dark tunnels until he came to the entrance to El’so’s den.

Where Yun and Yurrg’s door had been a jerry-rigged and padlocked metal grate, El’so’s was a full metal door with its own locking mechanism. It looked like it was meant to redirect drainage flow, for how well it fit in its frame. This was a case of someone using what was already here instead of scavenging and repurposing pieces to build something new. Angel decided to take that as a sign of cleverness on El’so’s part and not mere luck.

Angel hesitated in front of the door, taking one last sweep of his surroundings before slowly raising a fist and knocking. The sound was like drums announcing his presence in enemy territory, and Angel half expected to be jumped that instant. He had kept his weapons handy, but stowed, in a gesture of good faith. When the door unlocked a moment later with a loud _clang_ , Angel jumped and his hand went to the hilt of his knife at his hip as the door cracked open. He hastily dropped his hand, and a single all-black eye surrounded by a mass of stringy hair appeared in the crack.

“I don’t want to fight,” Angel said quickly, noticing how the eye widened in recognition. “I just want to ask you some questions. That is-- Are you El’so?”

The head nodded. “What questions?” El’so asked, the shadow of her mouth moving in the dim light. 

Angel took it as a good sign that she was asking her own questions rather than attacking. “I want to know about your history,” he replied.

“Why?”

Angel paused and then answered, “I’d rather not say in public. But I swear to abide by the rules of hospitality. If you allow me inside, we agree to peace.”

El’so considered this for what seemed like a long time, with Angel standing out in the tunnel exposed. But he gave her the time, waiting until she made up her mind.

“Very well,” she said finally. “Peace, while you are across my threshold.”

“Agreed,” Angel nodded, and when she had opened the door wide enough, he stepped inside.

The room was small and dimly lit, but Angel could see alright. It was cluttered with books and papers, decorated sparsely with weapons and a framed document on one metal wall, and furnished with a table (covered completely with aforementioned books and papers), two chairs, a loveseat, a mattress with blankets in one far corner, and a cauldron over a smoldering fire in the other. There was a vent above the cauldron letting the smoke up into a network of either pipes or ducts (Angel wasn’t sure which), and near the cauldron a pipe stuck out of the wall, dripping into a bucket despite the handle valve being in the off position.

El’so herself looked typically Trog, with her long, unwashed hair draping past her shoulders, bell-shaped horns, and dark eyes. She was smaller and Yun and Yurrg, and her hair seemed a little better cared for. She also wore softer clothing than the brothers had, opting out of the protective hides he usually saw Trogs wear, but then, he had never seen a Trog in a private context: maybe they all wore softer clothing at home. Angel glanced at the wall behind the door as El’so closed it and noted a coat and some sort of trousers made of those dark, protective hides. So that was it: they armored up when going out.

El’so pulled herself up to a fuller height as she faced Angel, her chest expanding and her posture becoming more formidable than her home suggested she actually was; as if she were donning her armor anyway. “What do you want?” she asked, her tone clearly meant to put Angel on the defensive.

“Just to ask you some questions, like I said,” Angel replied. “About your people’s history.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, but she didn’t back down her imposing posture. “Why?” she demanded.

Angel hesitated. This was already as close to a civil conversation as Angel had ever had with a Trog, but he didn’t know what toes he might step on that would ruin that. “I’m just trying to understand the context of my orders,” he replied.

“Your orders to _kill Yurrg?_ ” El’so growled, anger flashing in her eyes.

 _Oh thank god, I got the name right,_ Angel thought to himself. “Actually,” Angel told El’so, “my orders to save him.”

Again, he’d taken El’so by surprise and it took her a moment to respond. “Explain.”

So Angel did, in brief. He explained the contract on both Yun and Yurrg’s head, without mentioning Emily (client privacy), and he explained his orders from the vision he’d gotten, again without mentioning specifics (the vision hadn’t been meant for El’so, after all). Angel’s new position as Seer was widely known by now, and El’so took the information in with a neutral expression.

“So you see,” Angel concluded, “I’m trying to reach Yurrg’s rational side: convince him to leave town quietly. He gets to live and I get to keep both my jobs.”

El’so snorted derisively. “You still killed Yurrg’s brother.”

“Yes,” Angel admitted, “I did.” After a brief moment of silence, he added, “While that’s a valid point, it’s done. This is the situation I’m facing now. I’m trying to help Yurrg.”

“You’re trying to help _yourself_ ,” El’so snarled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, yes,” Angel admitted again. “I’m doing both. Look, if it weren’t for my orders, Yurrg would be dead by now. I’ve taken a big risk coming here to see you and an even bigger risk by telling I’m not actually going to kill Yurrg but that I’m going to let the rest of Galway _think_ I did. I’ve given you a bargaining chip against me that could ruin a hell of a lot for me, to show you my good faith. El’so, I _swear_ I’m not your enemy.”

El’so’s expression softened a little. Her weight shifted, like a fortress tower starting to crumble. Still with a skeptical gaze, she asked, “What do you want to know?”

“I want to know about your early histories,” Angel replied. “Maybe even early enough to be myth. I want to know what of your people’s stories shape your culture.”

El’so snorted derisively and shifted back a step. “Those stories are not for outsiders,” she said flatly.

“Promise I won’t tell anyone?” Angel pressed, hope beginning to fade.

El’so maintained her distrusting stare. Silence stretched between them. Finally, El’so asked, “What would you do with these stories?”

Angel felt like he’d answered this question already, but he said as patiently as he could, “Honestly, I don’t know, specifically. I haven’t been able to reason with Yurrg and I don’t think I could threaten him into leaving. I thought maybe I could appeal to some deeper emotion.”

El’so considered this, and her towering posture slipped a little bit more. But then she repeated, more softly this time, “Our stories are not for outsiders. They are sacred and it’s not for me to… But I think you could be thinking in the right...direction.”

While a part of Angel sank in disappointment, apparently this end wasn’t completely dead. He nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

She stared at him a little uncomfortably, but he thought he might have seen her give the tiniest of nods. After another moment of silence, it was clear that his visit was over, so he turned to go. El’so didn’t move from her spot, so without another word between them, Angel let himself out.

~~~~~

Angel decided to go to Decade to think. Normally, he’d go to the Dragon’s Crown, where it was generally quieter and more his aesthetic, but given that he was being hunted, he thought he should be a little less predictable in his haunts. Besides, the bar portion of the establishment was a little more exclusively for vampires and other blood-drinkers, and he had less of a chance of running into any other Trogs who might tip Yurrg off on his whereabouts.

Angel chose the darkest corner he could find, of which there were many. Despite the questionable morality of a human blood bar, Angel did love Decade for how well it catered to its market: dim lighting, well-muffled acoustics, mystery, secrecy, and isolation in a space of public fellowship. It was ideal for the loneliness of vampirism and the indulgence of nature.

In the spirit of this indulgence, Angel ordered blood from the bar tap. It would help him think more clearly than alcohol would, as a stimulant rather than a depressant, and the blood was (supposedly) sourced from willing donors. Angel was pretty sure the blood on tap was from the hospital, and the humans walking around were well-paid and cared for. Emily insisted it was better business practice to do it this way. It kept costs down to maintain low turnover rates.

Angel could see most of the rest of the bar from his chosen alcove and after the first few warm sips of his drink, started to relax for the first time in days. His thoughts started to flow a little easier, like warmed honey. Where before his mental processes had been stilted, like he could only think one sentence at a time, now they started to come more freely one after the other. 

Yurrg had a destiny, and whatever it was wasn’t for Angel to see. He’d been given the mission to pass on to William and Calder because they were capable of managing it on their own. Two kids, enlightening a Trog demon to the path of righteousness. 

Angel took another long sip of his blood.

Angel had screwed that up by murdering Yun, so now he had to be involved in fixing it. He had to ask for forgiveness. He had to show Yurrg that remorse is better than revenge. 

It would have to be on neutral ground, if not on Angel’s home turf. It would have to be private; well-protected. Angel was definitely still the underdog; he was going to have to plan this carefully.

“ _Halt!_ ” Phil the doorgoblin’s voice shouted near the entrance to the bar, drawing everyone’s attention. “I _said_ you can’t bring that in here!”

Angel leaned forward in his alcove to see the front, straining to get a good view around the other vampires and humans emerging from their own alcoves to see what was happening.

Yurrg’s huge form appeared in the doorway, holding a very large gun.

“ _Where’s Angel?_ ” he shouted into the room.

The next few moments were a crucial test to Angel’s status as a respected and feared vampire. Would he get called out or protected?

“He’s there!” a vampire Angel knew as Desmond said, pointing directly at Angel’s alcove.

“Snitch!” a different vampire named Justin (now going by Snake, Angel had to remind himself) yelled from the other side of the room.

Okay, so just about what Angel had expected. He was always going to have haters.

The gun charged up, whirring to such a high pitch all the vampires in the place cringed. Angel ducked, slipping out of the alcove quickly, and then there was a loud electric sound. Yurrg yelled as if in pain and there was a crash, and Angel peered around the neighboring alcove.

Phil had tasered Yurrg into dropping his gun. “I _said_ ,” Phil growled, “you _can’t_ bring that in here. You’re gone, Trog.”

Phil had to lift himself onto his toes to reach Yurrg’s elbow to try and tug him away, but Yurrg shook him off like a bothersome fly.

“ _Angel!_ ” Yurrg shouted again. “Come outside and fight like a demon! Or are you too much of a man to face me?”

A low-blow insult to be throwing around in a den of half-breeds bent on not recognizing their own humanity. Slowly, Angel stood up from his hiding place, and all eyes turned to him.

Well, shit.

“I’ll come outside,” Angel said. It was neutral-ish ground. Slightly less public. Absolutely not carefully planned out, but sometimes winging it worked, too.

Yurrg grunted and bent to pick up his gun.

“Equal weapons,” Angel said quickly, and Yurrg paused, thinking. It was honorable to concede to equal weapons, but Trogs were not bound by that particular code of honor. Honor would imply the valuation of a moral code; of a soul.

Yurrg picked up his gun and straightened again. He looked at Angel. “Equal weapons,” he agreed. “The tiny goblin will guard this until the fight is over.” He stretched out his arm and practically dropped the giant gun onto little Phil’s head.

“I will _not!_ ” Phil protested, but Yurrg was already lumbering out. Reluctantly, Angel followed him.

Snake followed Angel. Desmond followed Snake. The entire rest of Decade’s bar patrons followed Desmond. 

Angel tried furiously to think of what to do. He couldn’t lose the fight, obviously. He also couldn’t win it. He also couldn’t resolve it peacefully with everyone watching. What if he escaped? Delayed again until he could plan a better meeting place?

Yurrg led them to a dead-end alley. Decade was located in Uptown - the city’s experimental green initiative - so the ground here was made of the same bioluminescent material as the sidewalks out front and the walls of the buildings were covered in greenery. Not exactly the typical mood setting for a back alley demon fight, but the eager anticipation of the crowd of vampires following them set plenty of mood on their own. Glancing around for an escape route, Angel noted that the roofs were too high for Angel to jump up to, and the fire escape was quickly becoming filled with spectators. He might be able to climb the greenery but he wasn’t sure if it would support his weight.

Also, running away wouldn’t exactly help his failing reputation as a formidable figure in the Underworld.

“Weapons check,” Yurrg demanded, turning to face Angel.

“Look, Yurrg,” Angel said, “do we have to do this now? Let’s set up a proper challenge. Appoint a time, get a neutral party to check weapons--”

“ _Now!_ ” Yurrg insisted, pulling various knives out of his belt. “I’m tired of this, Angel! I want this over with.”

God, Angel did, too. So that was something they had in common. “You were given a solution,” Angel told him. “Take it.”

“Weakling vampires don’t scare me,” Yurrg said, throwing the last of his blades in the pile. “You turn to dust so easily. _Weapons!_ ”

Reluctantly, Angel started taking off his own weapons and adding them to what was going to be the free-for-all pile. “It wasn’t meant to scare you,” Angel told him, hyper aware of all the vampire eyes on him from behind. “But make no mistake I can hold my own,” he added, partly for the benefit of his audience. “I’m over 450 years old. You’re not the first one to underestimate me, and you won’t be the last.”

Yurrg just watched Angel unload his weapons in angry silence, and it was hard to tell how the threat had landed.

When Angel had tossed the last of his knives on the pile, who looked like a dark, angry blotch against the blue bioluminescent ground, he nodded. Yurrg grunted.

“To the death,” Yurrg said, pulling himself into the same imposing posture El’so had taken. It was a little easier to see Yurrg in a similar position: caught in the vulnerability of his grief, he had to put on some sort of armor to protect it. To mask the world from knowing that inside, he lived like any other creature with a soul.

That was Angel’s key, wasn’t it? Shit.

If Angel was going to use this key, he was going to have to bare himself as a creature with a soul, too. He was going to have to tear down his own story that he could be respectably violent and morally ambiguous despite his conscience. If he was going to touch Yurrg’s vulnerability, Angel was going to have to show that he shared the same vulnerability. And not only shared it: embraced it. Let it shape his decisions. Considered it a strength.

Angel had been openly challenged to a fight to the death against one he was bound to protect. Taking a deep breath, Angel jumped into a canyon he couldn’t see the bottom of. “No.”

Yurrg looked surprised, and the vampire crowd behind them murmured amongst each other.

“No?” Yurrg said. 

“That’s right,” Angel replied, trying to keep his voice even. “No. I will not fight you to the death like some monster with a grudge. I’ll resolve this civilly, like the two souled beings that we are.”

The murmurs grew louder, many of them angrily. He heard whispers alluding to his arrogance, his weakness, his utter insanity. He heard someone say, “See? It’s like I said: he can’t be called a vampire when he’s tethered with a soul. He’s not one of us.”

Yurrg’s huge, clawed hands clenched at his sides. “Trogs do not recognize our souls. We are separate. Free. I will rip your head off and feel nothing but delight.”

“Except you won’t,” Angel told him. He took a step to the right, wanting to put his back to a building rather than a crowd of volatile vampires. “You can’t. You can ignore the soul, but you can never be free of it.”

Yurrg matched Angel’s movements, one hand twitching toward the pile of weapons like he expected Angel to leap for them when Yurrg had his guard down.

“You can rip my head off and feel delight,” Angel went on, “but you’ll still feel angry at me. Sad. You’ll still hurt and want to hurt others and you’ll think that’s the freedom from your soul, but it’s not. It’s the chains lashing your soul to a body that hurts. It’s your soul trying to escape the pain you think is too much to feel. Trogs aren’t strong for ignoring their souls. They’re _weak_.”

Yurrg roared and lunged forward, grabbing a sword and a knife and swinging them at Angel. The crowd roared with him and Angel ducked; leaves fell onto the back of his neck from the sword hitting the building and slashing through the thick greenery. Angel slipped out from under Yurrg’s arms and whirled to face him from the back of the alley.

“Let me guess, Yurrg,” Angel said, shifting his weight from foot to foot in preparation to evade the next attack. He was going on a hunch, here. “You’re not like other Trogs, are you? Never have been, I’ll bet. You never were able to care as little as the rest of your clan. You always seemed to feel things worse than your friends. You felt weak for how hard it was to hide your emotions.”

Yurrg roared again and lunged, which was confirmation enough for Angel that he was on the right track. He’d found where to dig under his armor, but how deep did he have to go?

Angel dodged the attack again, rolling out of the way at the last second. He came up near the weapons pile, but he fought the temptation to grab something. He was trying to make a high-road point, here.

“It’s never weak to feel pain, Yurrg,” Angel said, shifting his weight again. “And I don’t just mean that in that way that my masochist friends here are thinking.” He nodded toward the crowd of vampires, several of whom had been nodding in agreement. Yurrg glanced at the crowd, looking suddenly uncertain how much he wanted to be having this discussion in public.

Angel agreed completely, but he didn’t want to disrupt his momentum. Now that he was under Yurrg’s armor, he didn’t want to remove the blade. “Look into your histories,” Angel said. “Your sacred histories. Your people keep lots of secrets from us outsiders, and I’m guessing your scholars keep a lot from you.”

“Why would I do that?” Yurrg growled. “What do you expect I’d find?”

“Hope,” Angel replied. “Purpose. Two things only those with souls can understand.”

“My people reject those things,” Yurrg told him.

Angel’s mouth twitched in a little smile. “So do mine.”

The crowd rippled, and at first Angel thought it was from what he’d said, but a moment later the crowd parted and Emily appeared. She gave Angel a piercing stare and folded her arms across her chest, bracelets jangling together. 

“Well, Angel? Are you going to do it?”

Angel could feel the piers slipping from his grasp. He wasn’t going to be able to regulate the goods that came through. Trafficking would skyrocket. He’d lose a major source of income, and Connor’s keep was not cheap. He could retain all that if he just picked up a damn weapon and kill the irksome Trog in front of him.

Angel blinked and turned to Yurrg. “No,” he said. “I’m not. I got an order that supersedes yours, Emily. The order says that Yurrg lives.”

Emily shrugged, unconcerned. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll take the piers and have someone else kill Yurrg instead.”

“My Champions and I will protect him,” Angel told her. “So long as he’s within city limits,” he added quickly. He looked at Yurrg and said, “I’ve been trying to tell you you should leave town quietly…”

Emily’s eyes flashed in anger at him, but before she could say anything else, Angel walked up to Yurrg and stopped just outside of arm’s reach. “I killed your brother,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear. “Your mask worked. I thought your people were scum, too cowardly to use the most powerful thing you possess: your ability to choose between right and wrong. But it turns out I was wrong. Or at least, I have hope that I am. I’m truly sorry for killing your brother. Someday, I hope you can forgive me for it, and free us both.”

They alley was utterly silent, except for Yurrg’s uncertain breathing. He stared at Angel, trembling with rage and - probably - grief. Angel waited like waiting for the gavel. Yurrg stared at Angel, and then looked out at the crowd of vampires, many of which still had blood dripping off their fangs. Someone whispered, “ _Fight!_ ” Another whispered, “ _Kill!_ ” A third went up to Emily and asked how much the bounty was for all four of them: Yurrg, Angel, and the Two Champions.

Emily just stared stonily at Angel. 

Finally Yurrg stirred in decision. Angel tensed. “I have no desire to live in a place where I’m hunted,” he said. “I could kill each of you unarmed, but that sounds boring and pointless. I will relocate and spare us all the tedium.”

Angel tried not to let his relief show. The crowd of vampires boo-ed in disappointment and Angel turned to look at Emily, wondering if he and Yurrg were going to have to fight their way out.

Emily shifted her arms against her chest, glancing between Angel and Yurrg with disgust and borderline fury.

Finally, she said, “That’s acceptable. I still get what I wanted.” She turned back to the crowd and said, “My apologies for the disruption to your evening, valued patrons. A round on the house, to show good will.” Looking pointedly back at Angel, she added, “We’re not all uncivilized monsters, here.”

Then she turned and started walking back to Decade. The crowd parted and followed her, seeming mollified by the free drinks, if they couldn’t witness a fight to the death. Soon, Angel and Yurrg were left alone in the silence. Angel’s mind was buzzing.

He’d lost the piers. How soon would other bits of his territory follow? Would he, William, and Calder be able to protect the humans from the fallout? Would he be able to retain any respect whatsoever in the underworld? Would he still have an open invitation to kitten poker?

Angel swayed a little, stumbling away from Yurrg. There was a scraping of metal and Angel wheeled around, expecting Yurrg to be arcing one of the weapons right at his neck.

But he was just putting away his own blades, not looking at Angel at all. Angel supposed he could be cleaning up, too. Without speaking, they picked up their respective weapons, stowing them in sheathes and boots and whatever hiding places they’d come in. When everything was put away, Yurrg finally looked at Angel.

“You gave up the piers,” Yurrg said gruffly.

“Yeah,” Angel agreed, his voice cracking a little. His knees felt kind of weak.

“Why?”

Angel swallowed. “Because there was a bigger purpose.”

“What purpose?”

Angel laughed, and it sounded a little hysterical. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “But it sure as hell better be good. If you’ll excuse me...I’ve got some payments to collect before Emily gets to them.”

Angel turned and stumbled out of the alley, feeling delirious, leaving Yurrg behind him. He never saw Yurrg again.

**Epilogue**

“Angel this is a disaster!” William said, looking absolutely devastated when Angel told him and Calder about what happened. They were at the Dragon’s Crown, where Angel had practically set up camp at his favorite booth, reinforcing that it was his, and that even though the piers were now Emily’s, that didn’t mean anything else was up for grabs. Least of all his favorite booth. So far, it seemed to be working. He hadn’t even been challenged for it.

“I know,” Angel said heavily. “Don’t you think I _know_ that?”

“What are we going to do?” Calder asked. “I mean, take the piers back, obviously, but how?”

Angel shrugged hopelessly. “I failed my end of the deal. She won it fair and square. I can’t just invade and take it back - not immediately, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“There are codes to follow, Cal,” Angel replied. “I have to bide my time, look for a weakness, exploit it, and strike when it’s time.”

William leaned forward, pushing his beer out of the way. “But Angel,” he said, “you said they’re _trafficking_ out of those piers.”

“I know!” Angel said again. “It’s bad, Will, I’m not saying it isn’t.”

Looking dumbfounded at Angel, William said, “But you just said we’re going to bide our time. That could take ages, and in the meantime we could be stopping a human trafficking ring! We _have_ to do something!”

“Whoa, whoa,” Angel said, holding up his hand, “I never said anything about _human_ trafficking.”

Both boys blinked at Angel. “You didn’t? Yes you did,” Calder said. He looked at William. “Didn’t he?”

“I thought…” William said uncertainly. “Well, okay, so what are they trafficking?”

Angel leaned back in his seat uncomfortably. The boys were human; they would never understand how dire this really was. “They’re just trafficking; what more do you need to know?”

“Angel,” William said sternly, putting on his Judith, _You’d better tell me now_ face. 

Angel sighed, feeling that that face was incredibly unfair of William to pull. “Kittens,” he admitted.

William and Calder blinked at him. 

“Kittens?” William repeated.

“Yes,” Angel said firmly, “and that’s a _bad_ thing. Just last week Fa’pir showed up to kitten poker with _three_ Russian blues! What’ll it be next week? _Siamese?_ ” At least Angel was still invited next week. Fa’pir had stopped by earlier to remind Angel that he owed him a tortoise shell.

William and Calder looked at each other and seemed to reach a nonverbal decision with a short nod.

“You’re on your own, Angel,” Calder said, raising his glass of beer to his lips and finishing it.

“What? No, c’mon guys,” Angel protested. “This is a serious thing.”

“Sure it is, Angel,” William said faux-consolingly. “But we have other serious things to worry about. I think we can let this one slide. You ready, Cal? I still need to finish studying my history notes.”

“Yup,” Calder said, standing up. “That was a nice study break, thanks, Angel.”

“No, guys,” Angel protested as William slid out of the booth, too. “Okay fine, after your exams. I’ll watch for the weaknesses to show and let you know.”

“Night, Angel,” William said as Calder waved goodbye.

Angel slumped back against his seat miserably. He’d forgotten how much taking the high road sucked sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know if you did. Regardless, I'll keep writing and posting because this is what I love to do, but it's always nice to break up the sound of crickets in an ageing fandom with a kudos or (!!!) a comment here and there. If you read this and aren't a follower of the series, I give kudos to *you* and recommend checking out the others in the series. There are lots more to come, so I also recommend putting the series on alert. Have a great rest of your day!


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